


and my sins weigh heavy

by Anonymous



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Dubious Morality, Family Drama, Gen, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Quote from tumblr:what if Caithe just shanked Malyck a couple hours after he headed out Just To Be Sure it wouldn't be a problem, due to the knowledge she had from Wynne/etc. 'You know. I really don't want him stumbling into secrets he shouldn't and this raises too many questions' -dagger to the back-
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: Anonymous





	and my sins weigh heavy

You are not a good person.

You lie a lot, and you kill a lot, and you- you know this, you do, you’ve accepted it. It used to make you special once, back when you were younger, that you were the one that could make tough choices, that you could do what brash Riannoc never could, what quiet Trahearne would have never done, what vicious Faolain lacked the finesse for.

(You haven’t felt special in a very long time.)

You watch Malyk hug the Valiant and the truth is that you want to hate him, for coming into your life and uprooting everything that’s brought you this far, threatening to uncover every lie you had ever spoken and every single drop of blood on your hands. He shakes Trahearne’s hand and you want to hate him for making it so hard to do what’s needed, to be kind when he could have been another notch on your blade. He looks at you with a hesitant expression, an aborted smile that doesn’t quite make it across his face, and you wish that you hate him (you don’t) and that you feel nothing (you don’t) and that you don’t have to kill him (you do).

(You do, you do, it has always been you.)

You take Malyk to the back of the Grove and close your eyes.

(He trusts you so easily now. You know it isn’t from anything you’ve done- you know it’s only because your protege. That’s okay. You’re going to betray him anyway.)

“What do you want to talk about?” He asks. He looks around, and by the Pale Mother, he’s young- even younger than the valiant. It’s been hours since he had left, but he’s covered so little distance, inexperienced, small. It had been easy to ask him to come with you. Too easy.

“Are you scared?” You ask. You watch his face flatten and continue. “It will be a hard journey to make, Sapling. The Nightmare Court will spare no sylvari to track you down. And you will be alone.”

You think, _stay_. You pray.

He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t even flinch. His words drop like stones in the conversation, carrying with it all the weight of a poisoned knife. “I need to know where I came from.” He nods at you, not knowing that something in your chest just broke. “It may be hard, but I have to find the truth.”

You wish he hadn’t said that. You really do.

“Alright.” You say, a sad smile you can feel twisting on your lips. “I can see I can’t change your mind.” He chuckles. You don’t want to do this.

“That’s it?” He asks, and you nod.

“I know a losing battle when I see one.” A pause. “You should go ahead. I have… matters, to attend to here.”

He inclines his head. Already you’re planning. The right way to end his life. The cleanest way. The best way to cut his screams off before they can begin. How to hide the body. How to get rid of the blood.

(You don’t want to do this.)

He turns.

( _You don’t want to do this._ )

Your dagger is between your (shaking) fingers.

_(Y o u d o n ’t w a n t t o d o t h i s.)_

He still hasn’t noticed.

_(YOU DONT WANT TO DO THIS-_

* * *

You think of Wynne. 

Your sister. The one you had come into existence with, the one you had loved, Wynne with her life stretched out in front of her, years upon years upon years. The way she had smiled. The way she had laughed. The way she had looked at you and asked to die, had begged, had cried. She had been so small. She had been so young.

You think of driving a knife through your sister’s chest. You think of the blood all over your fingers, getting into the little folds of your leaves, and the smell of rotted wood and decomposing leaves. You think of how much it hurt- you think of how it was necessary. You think of your leaves, worn the way she used to wear it: a reminder, an oath.

You think of your sister.

(You steel your resolve.)

* * *

(You have so much blood on your hands already. What’s a little more?)

* * *

You are not a good person.

You lie a lot, and you kill a lot, and you-

“I hope Malyk is okay.” The Commander murmurs into your shoulder, face streaked with tears from everything they’ve lost, and you-

You look down. You look away.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a tumblr post


End file.
